Hetare
by Neonidus of Libra
Summary: Italy is a lovable, oblivious nation that would never get knocked down by harsh comments. However, every person, human or nation, has a point where people cross the line. For Italy, that line will be crossed today.
1. Chapter 1

**Hetare**

By your favorite loser authoress~

(A/N): Another random idea! Just got Hetalia seasons 1 and 2. Best twenty-two dollars ever!:3. This story, which was supposed to be a one-shot, will actually be two chapters. I will post this now, finish the other chapie, and work on the next chapter for Embracing Freedom. I really need to sit down and figure out where I want to go with my two progressing fanficts. I have great ideas for both The Four of the Earth and Embracing Freedom . However, I have to think about how to connect the plot events smoothly...Anyway, onto the story!

For any of you Hetalia newbies at there(We all were at one point:3), Hetare is Japanese for "useless" in a kind of endearing way. The title "Hetalia" is a combination of both Hetare and Italia (Italy's Japanese name), thus the title literally means "Useless Italy."

Yay for cultural enlightenment! (LOL. Reminds me of when Japan opened up to the world. Hang in there Nihon-sama!)

* * *

It was a typical day for our favorite pasta-loving nation. A meeting was happening today and he was ready to go to it…more or less.

"Idiota! Hurry up! I am not going to go in your place this time!"

"Ve! Sorry fratello! I was just finishing my pasta!"

"Why do you insist upon eating that every single freaking day?"

"Because I love it. Ve~.Pasta!"

Romano face palmed, something that is awfully common when you live with perhaps the densest nation alive. That's saying something considering he used to live with Spain!

"What am I going to do with you…" he muttered, face palm still in effect. However, if you looked closely, you could see a small smile behind his hand.

"I'm ready to go!" Italy said with a cheery voice (How else would he sound like?), running up to the front door where his Southern Italian brother was watching him with his usual scowl.

"Finally!" Romano said in exasperation, crossing his arms.

Italy just giggled and hugged his brother, much to the other Italian's annoyance.

"Grazie for worrying about me Lovi~." Italy said happily, burying his head in his brother's shoulder.

"Don't call me that! I already have the stupid tomato lover saying that!" he yelled but with no real anger in his voice. He stopped trying to struggle out of the hug. He sighed, and returned it reluctantly, much to the other's joy. What could he say or do? He always had a soft spot for his brother.

After a few minutes of hugging, Romano cleared his throat.

"Ve! Right! The meeting!" Italy said as he just remembered what he was doing in the first place.

Romano face palmed again and said, "Be careful. Try to actually pay attention. Don't do anything stupid, and come back before it gets dark." He may be abrasive, but he is still a true big brother!

"Ve~. It's okay! I'm going to go over to Ludwig's house after the meeting!"

Italy winced slightly when Romano exploded(LOL. That sounds weird.).

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU ARE GOING OVER TO THE POTATO'S HOUSE?"

"Veeee! Lovi! Ludwig really isn't bad at all."

Romano looked like he was going to yell some more, but when he saw the clock by the door, his face paled.

"Idiota! You are going to be late!"

"VEEEEEEEE! I'm sorry! I'll go!"

"You better hurry! You are hosting this time!"

So in a panic, Italy was able to run all the way to the meeting place across the city of Rome. Thinking fearfully about what Germany would do to his pasta if he was late, he sped up.

At 1:05, five minutes late, Italy arrived at the meeting place (A hotel) and pushed open the doors.

"I'm here, Ve…" the Italian panted, exhausted. He looked around to see all of them staring at him. What he missed was the annoyance in their stares.

"Itailen! You are late again! I would think that since you vere hosting zis meeting you vould be here early for once!" Germnay sighed and shook his head. "Take a seat and let's continue."

Everyone turned away from the late Italian. China muttered something about immaturity. England turned back to watch Germany with an impatient look on his face. France, Russia ,America, and even the usually emotionless Japan also seemed annoyed.

Italy, like the oblivious, innocent person he is, Italy didn't notice all the small glares he was receiving. He pranced(in a manly way, of course!) over to the seat right next to Germany, ignoring the German's irritated glance in his direction as he sat down "Ve"ing loudly.

"Anyvay, up next is America who is going to give his speech on ze British Petroleum situation…"

England squirmed uncomfortably at this topic, but the look of uncomfort soon changed to one of surprise when America announced that England was not blamed. In the speech, it looked like he was just referring to the actual country in a formal fashion, but it a small smile flashed in England's direction hinted towards something else.

Italy may not have been playing complete attention to the speech, but he did catch the hidden meaning behind it. He smiled. England may be scary, but he is lucky to have a friend like America! Italy glanced over at Germany. He was so glad that he could say the same for Germany and him!

Germany was paying rapt attention to America, but, to Italy's surprise, he turned away to stare at Italy. Italy was surprised, but also happy. Germany never takes the time to just talk during meetings.

"Italy…Ve need to talk."

Italy felt so happy! What was Germany going to say? Was he going to help him make pasta? He perked up even more. That would be so much fun!

"You vere late again! You can't keep doing zis! Zis isn't a game! It's about the entire world!"

Italy's face fell, but Germany was too much into "Rant Mode" to notice it. After about a few moments passed, though, he smiled again. It was just the same. It was him criticizing everything he did. But c'mon this is Italy! He's used to it! So, he sat there, Germany's rant going right over his head. That is…until he took it too far.

"You're Grandfather and entire country vould be ashamed!"

Italy froze "staring" (Eyes closed. Remember?) at Germany in shock, but he had already given an exasperated sigh and turned to watch the meeting proceed with France.

That comment…It hurt Italy a lot. He was doing a great job at taking care of his country! Granpa would be proud...would he? The rest of the meeting went on with Italy just "staring" blankly at the table in front of him(…or at least more blankly than usual). Eventually, the lunch break came, but this time, instead of going along with Germany like he usually does, he went by himself to a restaurant nearby.

After telling the waiteress what he wanted, he dropped back into his sad, hurt thoughts.

Why did Germany say that? Italy thought somberly, twirling the straw in his drink around absentmindedly. He went so far this time…It hurt. Usually he would act annoyed and yell at him, but he never said something as deeply upsetting as that.

Italy then realized that he didn't bring Germany with him to lunch like he usually does.

Why does it matter? Italy pondered bitterly. He probably doesn't want to be around me.

He was suddenly struck with a thought. What if he doesn't want to be my friend anymore? He thought in a panic. He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't notice that the waitress came back with his food (pasta, of course!). He jumped slightly in surprise. She gave him a sympathetic smile, and said, "If something's bugging you, you should try to fix it. It doesn't help anyone if you put it off til later."

Italy stared at her, then down at his lap as he though about her words. She's right. Ger-…I mean. Ludwig is a true friend. I won't let him down anymore! I'll try harder and he won't yell at me anymore! Immediately, he felt reenergized and he stood up.

"Ve! You're right!" he said, starting to run out of the restaurant. Just before he got to the door, he remembered that he had to pay for his meal. He walked back to his table where the waitress was waiting for him in amusement.

After apolygizing, paying for the food, putting his pasta in a box(C'mon! He's not going to waste it!), and bidding the waitress fairwell, he ran back to the meeting place with a new spring in his step. He'll just tell Germany how he felt about what he said, tell him he'll try harder, and they will continue being friends!

A few minutes later, the hotel elevator opened up to the fourth floor where the meeting was taking place. Good thing that he was on time this time! He made his way over to the door. He was about to open it when he heard people talking.

"I can't believe it…late again. I should have known not to trust him vith something so important."

Italy stopped and listened carefully outside the door. That was Germany's voice! Curious, he stopped to listen through the door.

"Hahaha! Even the hero wasn't that late!" America?

"Honestly! So immature aru. How he even became a country I'll never know!" China?

Someone sighed. "Let's not have the bloody meeting's here unless Romano is hosting!" England?

"I agree. I cannot help but admit that the Italian is…how did you say it Japan?" Russia?

"Werr…Hetare Itaria." That was obviously Japan.

"What does that mean?" France asked.

"I-It means 'useress' in my language."

"Zat sure does sum up Italy…" Germany muttered.

"Ohonhonhon~. As much as I adore the little Italian, he is pretty stupid and annoying at times."

"At times? More like all the time!" America said.

"That is true, da?"

"He never does anything right! He thinks zat he is doing amazing things, but everytime he just continues to show how stupid he is! He never does anything right!"

Japan sighed. "As much as I want to be porite, I do wish that he wourd reave me arone a rot of the time. His rambrings give me headaches…"

"Sometimes, I vish that I never opened that tomato box."

"I wonder if we wourd had won the war if I had advised against Itary's alliance in the Axis." Japan muttered quietly so that nobody could hear…but Italy heard.

On the other side of the door, Italy stood in silence. Something wet fell onto his hand. He looked down, only for more drops to drop. He felt the skin underneath his eyes. He was crying and he never even knew it. He slowly backed away from the door and started to walk away when he felt like he was far enough away so that they wouldn't hear him, he started to run towards the stairs. He went up several flights of stairs until he finally reached the roof top. He closed the door behind him just as he started sobbing. Collapsing on his knees and hands, he felt himself shake with his soft cries.

All of them thought that he was useless, stupid, weak, and annoying. How come he never heard of this before. He did useful things!

There was that time where he invaded Egypt!...Wait. He failed at that. Egypt ended up hitting him with a stick…

Oh! What about the war supplies…Oh, those were cooking supplies.

Well, there was the U-boats!...No that was Japan.

Italy's sobbing worsened. He really was useless!

He stood up. His crying had halted, but his eyes were still red and puffy. He was far from feeling better though. He felt hollow and the anguish was making him nauseous.

He walked back down to the ground floor and went out of the hotel. The meeting would continue for another hour, but why would it matter if he was there or not? He was useless! Even if he did stay, he would just mess things up. Fresh tears pricked at the corners of his eyes again as he walked back to the home that he and Romano shared.

Thirty minutes later, he arrived to the house. He wasn't crying anymore, but that was because he was trying not to think about it. He tried to think about pasta and pizza. Those two things did make him crack a small smile, but the sad feeling lingered in him like a plague.

Just as he was about to knock on the door, he heard his brother yelling.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE ISN'T THERE?"

Italy cringed slightly at his brother's voice and stood to listen, having an odd feeling of déjà vu.

"…Really? Ditched? Figures. Stupid, useless fratello can't do anything right!"

Another mental spear jabbed into his already wounded heart. Leaving not a single second left to listen any more, he turned and started to run in the opposite direction, not caring if Romano heard him or not.

After thinking that he was far enough away from the house, Italy stopped running to slow into a walk, head down.

Even Romano thought that too…Sure his brother would call him things like an idiot, but he never went so far as to call him useless. Despite the fact that he was hostile towards many people, he always had a gentle side for his brother.

Italy felt his eyes water again. Apparently, all things must come to an end.

He wiped away his tears and looked up. He knew where to go now. If nobody else needed him, then he was going to his old home: the one in Venice.

* * *

(A/N): And there you have it! Awww! Don't cry Ita-chan:(.

*Sigh* I like making stories, but I still get impatient, so sorry if the emotional parts sound more rushed than emotional. Tell me if it does. I'm kind of worried...

Anyway, ever since I got the first two seasons of Hetalia, I have been learning even more about my favorite anime! For example, I never knew that Austria and Switzy were friends.

You know, I always was annoyed with Austria. He was prissy and stuck-up, but now, my opinion of him is changing. I also thought that Chibi! Austria was adorable! As in, I seriously paused the DVD to stare at him for a while.

I also cried at the point when Holy Rome left Italy T_T. Holy Rome is sooo kawaii! The parts with him in them were my favorites!

I would go on and on, but I need to get started on other chapies~I has work!

Wait though! Before I go...how would you people feel if I started a unit fanfict after I finished at least one of my in-progress fanficts? Review por favor~

- Le Neo-chan


	2. Chapter 2

(A/N): Wow...I never thought I would get so many reviews so quickly. Anyway, thank you to all 12 reviewers for chapie 1:

PridexWretchedluver4ever: I thought I said I would continue this. Sorry if I gave you the wrong idea!

Euterpe'sDaughter13: You bet he did! At first, I didn't understand what you said because I never saw the movie, but now I have. It was awesome!

EliteKessu: It's kind of ironic that I would get unit advice from you. I read your unit story before I ever got an account and I enjoyed it a lot! Thanks for caring!

Kitk12: Wow. Your review really touched my heart...*Hugs*I'm sorry that I made you cry, but don't worry! I would never leave Italy like this! Be the person that you think is right! If others don't like it, then they're the ones that need to change and apologize! Let this story be dedicated to you and everyone else that is going through something like this!

JustMakeLeftTurns: Thank you! I hope you enjoy this chapter. I thought it was much more poetically emotional than the last.

Nyapoop14: I shall continue. Don't worry! I hate it when people leave unhappy endings! In fact, I might make a sequel to my Sealand oneshot since it was sad too...

Cuore l'anima della: Is that French?O_O. Yay~Hugs for Italy~. Make him happy inside~

Chibichu of Russia: You're name makes me want to hug Russia! And yes! Maybe I'll let you have a go at them...Fangirl brofist!

speadee: Thank you. It was nice to see a review with some constructive stuff in it. As for the lunch time...whoops*Sweat drop*

Guest: Go granpa! Flip yeah! It is all ironic, no?

hetaliaforever123: I love your name! Hetalia forever yay~. (Italy: *sniff*Grazie for caring. *Hugs all your ocs and you*)

Perpetual Dreams: I shall update! Right about...now!*Hits posting button* There ya go!

* * *

Random quote from the movie Paint it White!

After taking a bite from a sandwhich...

Switzy: It tastes...like sandwhich.

My reaction: *Claps*Wow. He should be a food critique.

Cookie for anyone who can guess my favorite Switzerland quote! This was my second favorite!

* * *

He finally arrived. He stepped out of the taxi after paying the man. He took a moment to watch him drive off, growing smaller as he continued down the road.

Italy turned and looked up at his Venetian home. It was a very nice and expensive home (He is a nation after all.). It was only two stories high, but it had a nice, well-kept yard that stretched for quite a few acres in every direction. It was a nice, colorful red, emphasizing the beautiful sunset behind it. There was only a single, small road nearby that connected to the driveway. It wasn't a very busy road, so he never had problems with traffic or anybody from the city close by. Italy would have perfered that he got a house in the city near the waterways, but his boss gave him this home instead. It made sense. He wouldn't be bothered by any nosy locals whenever he invited other nations over or wanted to relax (read "take a siesta"). Besides, when he wanted to hang out with others, he could always drive for a short distance to the center of Venice.

Unfortunately, he wouldn't be hanging out with any nations for a while.

Using his key, Italy opened the nice, wooden door to go inside.

Apparently, Italy's entire home had a red and white theme. The wallpaper was a pretty crimson color, while the carpet floor and furniture were as white as snow.

Italy walked over to sit on the coach and gave a stressed sigh.

Silence.

Tears appeared in the Italian's eyes, but this time, he could continue to cry without anyone overhearing him.

So he didn't stop it.

He cried. He cried over what Romano said. He cried over the hurtful things Germany and Japan said. He cried over the disapproving comments of the other present nations. He cried because of self-doubt. He cries because of his newfound hatred for himself. He cried because he was crying.

He cried because he was himself.

The tears eventually stopped. He just couldn't cry anymore. He wished that he would just cry forever. It was something to do after all. It was a distraction. Now, all he could do was stare up at the ceiling, both numb and in pain as he was forced to realize one fact.

He was alone.

The Italy brothers had quite a few houses around their country. The biggest ones and the ones that they occupied the most were the ones in Rome and Venice. At first, they each lived in one of the houses alone. A while later, they started living together, much to Italy's joy. But of course, all things must come to an end. Espeacially at the times when people least expect it.

Italy reminced sadly. Earlier today, he was excited about going over to Germany's house after a long (boring) meeting. Who would have thought that it would turn out like this? Italy was stuck in an empty house that he hadn't lived in for a while with only that dark cloud above him to keep him company.

Italy always hated being alone. It just reminded him of lonely times without friends. He was torn amoung things. One part of him wanted to confront the nations and beg for them to tell him that what they said wasn't true. Another part wanted to be alone and cry, while a third was scared to be all alone. The fourth part was praying that they would find him.

The darkness was consuming him. The jorney home had given him time to think. He was at war with himself. One side was attempting to find real evidence that he was a good friend and that people wanted to be around him. The other side was his growing self-loathing. After a while, the first side was getting desperate. It couldn't find any memories where he wasn't yelled at, scolded in some sort of way, or looked at in exasperation. Contary to popular belief, Italy never forgets things. He may not give the time to think things over most fo thr time, but when he does, he takes everything into account.

He was useless.

He was annoying.

His friends may have been there in danger for him, but he was never there for them in dangerous times.

He slowed people down. He was a burden.

He shouldn't be anywhere with anyone for fear of dragging them down because of his foolishness.

He came to a was more than useless. He was more than annoying.

He was pointless. A waste of space.

A single tear fell out of his eye before he fell into dreams choked with the heavy mist of his sorrow.

POV: Germany

To say that Germany was angry was an understatement.

He was furious.

Where was he? He thought, fuming. The way he was late earlier pales in comparison to this. Thirty minutes! Giving a huff of irration, he stopped the meeting and walked out of the meeting room, much to everyone's relief. Germany was scary when he was angry, but he was s force to be reckoned with when he was enraged.

"Aiyah! Where is that Italian?" China said, annoyed.

"Probably distracted at some restaurant, trying to taste every single bloody noodle of pasta on the menu." England said jokingly.

Everyone snickered at that. Even Japan had to hold back a smile.

Back with Germany, he was angrily punching the numbers on his cell phone. He didn't want to do this, but he had no choice. When he himself didn't know where the Italian could possibly be, he had to call someone else who would probably know what Italy was doing right now.

He had to call Romano.

POV: Romano (Third-person limited)

Our other favorite Italian was busy taking his siesta. Lounging on the couch, he sighed in relaxation. He loved his brother, but he was awfully noisy. It was a nice change to be able to sleep in peace.

The phone rang.

His eyes snapped open, and he huffed in annoyance. Figures.

He got up and, too lazy to check the caller ID (which was Potato Head by the way. It is Roma's house.), he just picked up the phone pressed the talk button and answered in the kindest way possible.

"What do you want?" he said, perturbed.

"Umm…Hello Romano." Germany's voice said from the other end.

Here comes the mushroom cloud.

"WHAT THE HECK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE CALLING ME FOR YOU STUPID POTATO?"

"Calm down! I vas just calling to see if Italy was there! He isn't here!"

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE ISN'T THERE?"

"He isn't here at ze meeting! He is thirty minutes late! We don't know if he ditched to take a siesta, or whatever he does!"

"…Really? Ditched? Figures. Stupid, useless fratello can't do anything right!"

He heard something outside the door. It sounded like someone running away. He quickly ran over to the window to see his brother just as he disappeared around some buildings.

"…Venechiano?" he said in confusion, staring at the place where he vanished from view.

"Vhat?"

He jumped. He forgot that the potato was still on the phone.

"I was talking to you idiota! I just saw my fratello running away from the house!"

"Really? Do you know vhere he is going?"

Romano's brotherly senses were tingling. Something was wrong. He could feel it.

"Romano?"

He stared at the phone for a moment. He could just hang up. ..But if something was wrong, then his fratello would need a friend too. Romano hated Germany, but, as much as he loathes to admit it, he is one of his fratello's best friends. If something wasn't right with him, then his hatred doesn't matter.

He sighed and said, "I think that I might know what to do. I'm coming over there." Then, he hung up the phone before Germany could reply.

~~~Draw a circle, there's a…circle~~~

Germany looked at the phone in confusion. Why was Romano coming over to the hotel? He couldn't stand being in the same country as the German let alone coming over to talk to him about something.

Germany sighed and put the phone back in his pocket. He had to get back to the meeting, but he guessed that a few more minutes of waiting wouldn't hurt. It wasn't like the hotel was far away from his home.

While he was thinking, he went to go sit down on one of the couches in the hotel's lobby. He looked around at the various decorations, vaguely thinking about how impressive the Italian architecture…Wait…Italy…

Germany could feel is frustration coming back at the Italian's ditching. Romano was probably coming over to help look for him. Even though it was his ownm country, which, as a country, he should know very well, the Italian could always manage to find trouble at the most inconvient times( especially for Germany and Japan, who pretty much have to bail him out of those situations…).

"Potato head! Listen to me when I am speaking to you for once!"

Germany's head jolted up in shock to meet Romano's glares. He always thought that it was strange. Since he was around Italy so much, it was weird seeing somebody who looks like him glaring at him, something that Italy would never do no matter how many times he was provoked.

Before he could continue to yell, Germany apologized, which Romano accepted with a reluctant grunt.

"So…About my brother…" he averted his eyes and trailed off as if choosing his next words carefully.

Germany blinked in surprise. Romano would never pass the time to argue with him. Was the situation with Italy that serious? Instead of asking Romano to continue, he gave him more time to think. He was afraid that if he acted impatient around him would result in unnessessary yelling that would only delay everything.

So that was why when Romano finally spoke, he had Germany's undivided attention. "I saw my brother not too long ago, but he was acting strange."

"Germany was about to ask for more clarification when another voice beat him too it.

"What do you mean?"

Romano and Germany turned to see Japan. His dark brown eyes had a glint of curiousity and confusion in them.

Romano seemed to visibly relax somewhat. He didn't like Germany, but he had a mutual respect for Japan.

"It's my brother. When I was talking to the Potato here, I heard him running outside the door. When I went to look in the window, I saw he running away from the house."

Germany and Japan frowned, confused. This was strange even for Italy…

"Do you know where he could be?" Japan asked.

If this was Germany asking this question, then Romano would have made a sarcastic or harsh reply. Since this was Japan, he just said, "No idea."

Only a few seconds after Romano's reply, Germany abruptly said, "I know how to find him!" Standing up anf quickly walking over to Japan, he got his phone out. "Remember that time when Italy got lost in Berlin?"

Japan nodded in affirmation, "Hai. It was that world meeting."

How could they forget? It was just a simple, quick world meeting in Berlin, Germany. Italy, Germany, and Japan were going to get together the day before the meeting and do some sight-seeing so they arrived earlier than anyone else. At the airport, Germany warned Italy to stay close to him since it was very busy around there. It was barely five minutes later when Japan told Germany that Italy was no longer near them. When they tried to call him, he didn't answer. It took them three hours to find him. When he was found, he was right outside the airport in a nearby park, hugging a tree and sobbing. When Germany asked what he was doing, Italy said that if he ever got lost, Romano told him to hug and tree and stay there until someone found him. To prevent Italy from being lost again( and to save the rest of the former Axis from humiliation), Germany actually put a tracking device on him in the form of a small anklet*.

When reminded of this, Japan said, "That's a good idea. You can track him from your phone, correct?"

Germany was already searching his phone for the app*. "Yes. Hold on. I need to find it and determine his location…"

Romano was glaring at the German warily, using all of his willpower to keep his mouth shut. He put a tracking device on his baby brother? He was so going to get it later on…

"I've got it!" Germany excalmed in triumph. However, when he saw the location, he frowned. "Zhat can't be right…"

"What? What is it? Give it to me you imbecile!" Romano said impatiently, snatching the phone out of his hand deftly*. The Southern Italian glared at the phone. Eventually, his harsh face also melted into one of confusion.

He looked back at the other two. "I know this address. Fratello's in one of our other houses. The one in Venice, actually." He started at the floor. "Why would he go there? We haven't been there in months…" he mumbled, half to himself.

POV: Japan

Japan listened carefully to Romano when he said that. The Japanese man was confused. This wasn't Italy's normal behavior. He glanced at Germany, who also seemed to be stuck in his own thoughts.

Japan had always been the type of person that can sense the mood. That also means that he studies people too, especially the ones he is the closest to. After spending a lot of time with Germany and Italy during the second world war, he even surprised himself when he finally realized how close he was to them. It amount of time they spent together gave Japan a lot of information about their personalities and quirks.

Now was the time to put this information to good use.

Knowing Italy, it wasn't a big shock that he would try to ditch. It wasn't exactly the first time that happened. Usually, when that happened, he would be running around the area nearby looking at restaurants, flirting with girls, and doing just about anything that can be done with pasta.

However, despite his tendencies to wander around, he would never go very far. Why? Because even though Italy wasn't the brightest person in the world, he still knows to be wary of that. Besides, this was his own country. He would know the area very well, and he would know when he was too far away. Plus, he likes to be near people, especially other countries like him(Preferably Germany, Japan, Romano, Spain, Hungary ,and France).

Venice and Rome have a large distance between them. Japan wasn't completely sure how much of a distance it was, but he did know that it was sizable. The countries that were a part of the meeting would all be in Rome, while Italy was in Venice.

Of course, the matter of how Italy got there wasn't a confusing thought. Each country has the ability to somehow "fast travel"* to certain points throughout their own country. Italy must have fast traveled to a point close to his Venetian home, then he probably paid a taxi to take him the rest of the distance. However, this all doesn't answer the main question nagging at them.

Why did he do it?

He felt something spark in his chest. It was an uncomfortable feeling. One that had his blood grow slightly colder.

He was worried.

Japan looked up at Germany,"Germany…" he said a determined voice.

Shocked, Romano and Germany watched the normally reserved Japanese speak with such confidence.

"We need to go see Italy. Something's wrong."

* * *

(A/N): And that's that! Star thingies~

*Can anyone imagine Germany putting a tracking device on Italy?XD

*There was a moment in Paint it White! where Britain used an app to translate the alien language. The youtube commenters made jokes saying,"Can't understand an alien language? There's an app for that" This was based on that joke.

*Fast traveling...I got the term from Skyrim:P

I'll try to update soon! I know I said this would be two chapies but it will be slightly siento!


	3. Chapter 3

Hey! I'm alive! Big surprise?

I am touched. I really am. So many reviewers and views...for just a few chapters of a story. Unless you guys are writers yourselves, you have no clue how happy I am to know that there are people out there that are seeking me out through PM, my other stories, wonderful comments...It's just so amazing, right?

...Do you think that was more cheddar or monterary jack? Cuz that was a little cheesey...

Uhh...Yeah..Here you is*gives readers the chapter while wondering if they're mad for the long wait* *nervous smile*

* * *

Silence.

That was all that could be heard in a specific, isolated home in Venice, Italy.

Usually, the house was full of life. Throughout the day, sounds of laughing, overzealous babbling, and various activities in the kitchen would greet whoever walked through the house. It would seem to bounce off the walls, emphasizing their glorious tomato red color. Even at night, when most were asleep, the sounds of not-so-quiet-like-it-should-have-been humming would cheerful sound throughout the homestead as the occupant(and sometimes his brother, who would visit sometimes) cleaned up in the kitchen or watched some TV.

But not today.

Night had fallen already, but all was still quiet. The cheerful atmosphere was replaced with a thick, solemn cloud that hung in the air. The usually happy, colorful walls, without the bright cheerfulness nearby, seemed to take on the morbid color of dark blood and towered oppressively, choking the remaining life out of the rooms. The white, contrasting furniture appeared as milky, ghostly white forms in the darkness.

But where was the lone occupant?

Upstairs, down the halls, and in a room at the very end of the hallway, the shape of a small, thin body could be made out.

Short, neat, auburn hair sat upon a handsome, tan face. His eyes were closed and his face held a peaceful look on his face. His right hand was pressed up against his right brow, while the left hand dangled off the side of the mattress. His mouth twitched and began to form the beginnings of a relaxed, soft smile. It was obvious that he was having a good dream. The room seemed to lose some of its sorrowful tension. The night no longer seemed so adverse and became soft and sleepy.

Sadly, it would not last.

The Italian's face seemed to tense up. The small smile turned into a frown. Both hands started to fold inward and form fists. A gasp escaped the man's mouth and his neck jerked involuntarily to the side. His eyes fluttered a bit.

The movements started to worsen as the man started to thrash about, tangling himself in his bed sheets. His left hand hit the nightstand by the side of the bed. The Italian gave a cry of pain and fear. His eyes snapped open. They were glazed over, for he was still trapped in the dream-turned-nightmare. He froze for a moment, unseeing eyes gazing forward at some sort of unknown terror.

Panicking, in jerky movements, he leaped up out of bed and ran out the open door of the bedroom.

Italy's POV

He didn't care where he was or where he was going. All he knew that he had to get away. All the typical rational thinking was gone, leaving only the instincts left.

The instinct of fear. And to escape.

Even when sleep-walking/running, he could still see where he was going. He ran down the hallway in a matter of a few seconds. For him, it might as well have been hours.

_Which one? Which one is it?_

The Italian was able to at least have flashes of coherent thoughts as he ran to the top of the stairs.

_They're dead. They're dead. I saw them. I saw them. Why couldn't I save them?_

All of a sudden, he stopped, and mechanically turned his head to look behind him. A person in his or her right mind wouldn't see anything there.

But Italy wasn't in his right mind at the moment.

Through his eyes, one would see a hulking grey figure with no other describable features except for soulless, black eyes. It stared at Italy from its position in the doorway of the bedroom, black eyes appearing unnaturally intelligent.

A low, malevolent hiss emitted from deep within the being's throat, but it didn't move.

Italy stared back at it, feeling both afraid and numb at the same time. He blinked.

It disappeared.

Still, Italy didn't let down his guard, he stiffly turned and walked down a set of stairs, staring blankly ahead.

_It's all my fault. Why was it me? Why was it me that they had to rely on? Why couldn't it have been anyone but me? I'm just a burden...I've doomed us all._

He made the mistake of looking back.

It was there, standing at the top of the stairs.

_I've doomed us all._

Silence. Then, the creature started breathing. They were deep, drawn out, starved breaths.

And they were getting louder.

_I did. I doomed us all._

Italy watched the creature. His breathing started to quicken to the point where he started to feel dizzy.

_I've doomed us all...I've doomed us all...I've doomed us all...I HAVE DOOMED US ALL!_

He blinked.

The creature was upon him in mere seconds.

He gave one last cry before the blackness embraced him. One last thought entered his mind before he drifted off.

_96...It was loop 96..._

Germany's POV

The first thing that greeted him was the silence.

Even from his position near the road, he would have been able to hear the loud Italian from there. He would be talking about pasta or his favorite sport or cats...or frankly, anything that annoyed the German(which is pretty much anything and everything). He would have expected anything. It's something you get used to when you were friends with perhaps one of the most confusing beings on Earth. But the silence was something that was a complete impossibility within five miles of the Italian.

It made Germany even more uneasy.

He looked over his shoulder to see Romano paying the taxi driver. Apparently, there was some sort of disagreement because they were arguing in rapid Italian. He couldn't make out any words. This reminded him of the time when Italy tried to teach him some Italian during WWII. He had barely paid any attention to the young Italian when he would randomly chirp out a few of the words at random times of the day. Granted, most of the time it was when they were in the middle of stealth missions and he just wouldn't shut up...but that still didn't stop the uneasy feeling that settled in his stomach at the thought of him cruelly hitting him on the head whenever he started talking a lot of the time.

Was he really too hard on Italy?

He never really had a friend before, especially one like Italy. He couldn't help but think back to his clearest memories of his younger years. They were the years of unification. He remembered the battles he fought and the people he killed.

He fought and he fought and,with the guidance of Bismarck and Prussia's military skills, he succeeded and he became a nation-state. He won, but he also lost. Denmark...France...Austria...He hurt so many just be trying to unify.

Then, the first of the world wars came along. It was a war like no other.

It started with the assignation of that Austrian archduke. Then, before he knew it, it was the Triple Alliance vs. the Triple Entente with Germany being with the former fighting alongside Austria. Everyone was pumped. The innovations created by the Industrial Revolution were ready to be tried out in war and everyone felt such strong nationalism and were ready to fight for their country.

But all that war brought was death and despair. Everyone was horrified by the new technology brought into the war. Tanks, shells, trenches, bombs...Not to mention the horrible mustard gas. By the time it was done, so many were dead. And the ones left alive, were so scarred for life. They created methods to express themselves and their insanity, but nothing could "unsee" the seen.

Everyone was scared. And everyone knew human nature. It didn't matter if the person was a citizen or personification. They were all still human and like humans, they wanted something to blame. And who did they blame? Germany.

Germany felt fierce anger flare up inside him. Oh, he remembered _that_ alright. England and France were the worst. They enforced upon him the burden of reparations so he could pay for a crime everyone had commit. They cut down his army, destroyed his political structure, and overall shattered the stability and prosperity that he worked so hard to create.

It wasn't exactly a surprise that WWII followed closely afterwards.

Hitler was a man to be feared. The control he had. The way he could sway an entire population of desperate people with just a few simple words. He had the perfect opportunity to rebuild Germany. He blamed people. The Jews and communists were some of them. Imperialistic expansion followed soon after. And Germany conquered many, leaving destruction in his wake.

Germany was hopeful and just as desperate as his people. He was suffering and he needed help, so he was grateful that Hitler came along. He built up the economy. He stabilized politics. He reconstructed the army. And Germany was glad. He supported him every step of the way.

Then, Hitler started talking about the 3rd Reich.

Of course, like any human, Germany felt the lust for power. He wanted to be powerful. It was in his blood and instincts. It was the nature of a country to conquer and its personifications were no different. So he went along with it.

But then, Hitler started taking it too far. He ordered the genocides of millions and millions of Jews, creating the infamous Holocaust. The concentration camps were the worst. One time, Germany visited one of them. He saw a small girl near the fence. Her eyes were hollow and sickly. Her short hair was a tangled mess and dirt, blood, and blisters had covered her small, fragile frame. And she just lied down...and died. She couldn't have been more than fifteen.

He returned home that day as pale as a sheet. That girl haunted a lot of his nightmares. It wasn't til may years after the war that he learned her name. She was a Dutch citizen whose face was plastered on the covers of thousands of books called _The Diary of Anne Frank_.

But he didn't do anything. He couldn't do anything. As much as he wishes it wasn't so, Hitler had the power. He didn't. And he could only watch the deaths, keeping a mask of indifference over his anguish and sorrow.

And because of that...Nobody can look at him today without seeing the country who sparked another terrible war and slaughtered because he could.

_I don't know why. _the German thought, gazing blankly at the Italian house, deep in thought. _He didn't see that. _He started to walk towards the house.

"Ludwig-san."

Germany jumped at the calm voice that came behind him. he looked over his shoulder to see Japan walking a few yards behind him. He watched curiously as the man quickened his pace to come next to him. He slowed down to match his pace, dark eyes looking up at his face in a questioning manner.

"_Ja?_" Germany asked, suddenly feeling tired. He held back the urge to sigh as his eyes met Japan's. He had so much on his shoulders right now, and this wasn't making his day better.

Japan averted his eyes and looked at the ground for a few seconds in thoughtful silence as though gathering his words together before he spoke. When he finally did, he met the tall German's eyes again.

"Do you think it is possibur...that Italy-san might have heard what we said?"

Germany was puzzled. What was Japan talking about? "Come again?"

"We..." Japan faltered for a second, but almost immediately started to speak again,"We said some...horribre things that were uncalled for back at the meeting."

Germany put two and two together, and when he did, he felt his blood run cold as a feeling that he never really felt for another nation flowed through his entire being. That feeling that makes your stomach churn and skin crawl. The feeling that poisons you til you feel sick. The unwanted emotion.

Guilt.

"_Mein Gott_." Germany whispered as his worry increased tenfold. He didn't care about his dignity when he started to jog to the house or when Romano yelled at him to wait up.

Japan's POV

He watched as the realization finally took a firm hold on his friend. Germany's eyes widened as his cold facade crumbled a bit, and, for the first time, Japan could clearly see worry in the nation's eyes.

He whispered something in German and started to jog towards the house. Japan eyes followed him as he went. With a soft sigh, the Japanese nation's eyes dulled sadly.

_Usually, I have so much control over my actions. Why did I choose now to have a slip of the tongue? It could have been possible that this incident would not have occurred if I do not just blurt out my impulsive thought._

Japan heard Romano yell in surprise at Germany. Seconds later the Italian rushed past Japan, startling him slightly. Staring at them as they neared the house, Japan allowed himself to become lost in his thoughts again.

Guilt was, unfortunately, an emotion the Japanese man was too accustomed to. He was a country. He was used to gut-twisting, stressful dilemmas, and when guilt reared its ugly head, he was able to hide it just as efficiently as any other emotion. Emotions were weakness, or at least, that was what he told himself. It was so easy to take advantage of one's feelings and trick them. Eventually, that cool indifference stained him permanently. He isolated himself from foreigners and even isolated himself from his own people at times. Nonetheless, he always prided himself for his stoicism and level head. He was fine with it. It was a strategy that was perfect for him. He needed only that and nothing else.

And yet...

Japan couldn't help but sigh and stare down at the ground as the sickly feeling clawed at his stomach. It was so hard to think that he actually had a part in hurting Italy. It was even harder to think that he may have shut himself away because of that.

It was not difficult to put two and two together. Japan swore he heard someone outside the meeting room during the conversation. He dismissed it at the time.

But now everything made sense. He heard. He had to have.

Japan looked back up only to be mildly surprised when he saw how far ahead the other two were. Germany had already reached the beginning of the small set of stairs leading up to the door. He turned back to watch Romano and Japan. Even though Japan was quite a ways behind him, he could see the impatient almost-scowl on the German's face.

Most other nations would say that Germany and Japan were overreacting. They already had a long meeting and work to do and now they took the time to take a trip to Venice just to see a friend? However, that's just the problem. Most nations don't know Italy. And for him to go so far away without warning? Something unspeakably wrong must have happened.

Japan was surprised that his feet had subconsciously started to move at a faster pace, fueled by his worry.

...No. It wasn't worry. This "worry" was too sickening. Too time-consuming. It has plagued his mind since he discovered that he was missing.

He wouldn't admit it bluntly, but Japan, like anyone else, was a very stubborn person. He held his head high and his dignity even higher. So he would never tell that at that time, he realized that the worry had evolved into something worse. It was still small, but it was there.

The first pinpricks of fear.

Not giving too much time to think about it, Japan slowly started to lean forward. His feet rushed to keep up underneath him and before he knew it, he was running.

Italy's POV

Hours of uninterrupted silence gave way with a small slam soon followed by the shrieking sound of shattering glass.

_Crash!_

Nothing moved. Seconds ticked by in almost a pressuring way on a nearby clock.

_Tick...Tick...Tick..._

A face slowly and tentatively appeared. peering around the outside wall of the kitchen. Sheepish eyes fell upon a small pile of the broken remains of a plate on top of a computer mouse.

Italy waited, watching the plate as if it would come back together magically and start berating him for breaking it. After a few moments, the rest of the Italian's body appeared from around the wall and began walking to the plate. Once he reached it and bent down to examine it, he made a noise that was between a small whine of complaint and a guilty whimper. It was such a nice plate. Fine china, actually. It was a cream color with a circle of tomato plants around the outer edge, coiling tangles of vine-like plants bearing ripe, delicious fruits ready to be picked and sliced up for eating.

It was.

Without thinking, Italy bent down to pick up a piece only to give a small gasp of pain as the now-sharp edge dug into the skin. He relaxed his hold on the piece, hand uncurling around it to reveal a shard with green vines on it. A dark red spot now adorned the detailed decor, corresponding with another spot on his index finger. Italy couldn't help but give a weak chuckle. Mentally cringing at the discomfort caused by his hoarse voice and heavy lungs.

_It looks like a tomato. Must be the time for harvesting. _he thought. The small bit of creepy humor doing nothing to chase away the heaviness in his lungs.

He set the shard back down, telling himself that he would clean it up later. He grabbed the cord next to it and stood up, a computer mouse dangled and swayed curiously at the end. He watched the mouse swing with an almost dazed look on his face, but with a sudden jolt, he shocked himself out of his stupor. He turned on his heel and walked back into the other room.

The living room was the same as it was when he arrived, except for a laptop sent on a nearby coffee table. The screen was frozen on the face of a rather horrendous bluish monster with his hands firmly gripping the bars of a jail cell. It seemed to stare blankly ahead with large, almost smudgy-looking eyes.

When his eyes fell upon the thing, Italy gave it an uncharacteristically nasty look. When Japan had told him about that game, he didn't tell him about so many jump scares.

What does "Ao Oni" even mean anyway?

_I had such a bad night's sleep._ Italy thought, his emotions suddenly turning sorrowful. _What possessed me to do this anyway? Since when did I show any interest in horror games?_

Italy stubbornly refused to admit that it was because he hoped for any sort of distraction from his dark thoughts.

He walked over to link up the mouse to the computer and then closed the computer with a grimace.

_Looks like you're going to have to do stuff without me, Hiroshi. _the Italian couldn't help but think.

Italy slowly walked over to the couch and lied down on it, hitting the pillow with a sigh.

Now that Italy had stopped crying, he had to deal with the depression all on his own. He didn't feel like exciting the house, where he would be with a bunch of other people. He just wanted to be alone. He half-heartedly stroked the white couch with his index finger, only for it to draw a line of ruby red.

Mildly surprised, he pulled his hand up to his face to inspect his finger. A small red slice in the tan skin was what met his eyes.

_The plate shard...Oh. _the Italian thought. He stared at the cut for a few more seconds then got up, trying his best to ignore his body's languor as he sluggishly stumbled to the kitchen.

He entered the kitchen, trying to remember where he had the band-aids. When he remembered, he looked over to the cabinet with a small, whiny groan.

_Of all the places..._Italy thought somewhat bitterly as he found himself sitting on his knees next to the broken plate, glaring half-heartedly at the floor-level cabinet it so happen to be in front of.

_Maybe I can just reach? _Italy thought impulsively. Without hesitation, he reached over the shards to open the cabinet. The inside was surprisingly clean with well-organized medicines and small tools gathered in small stacks or baskets, not that Italy cared much. He slowly leaned over the shards to reach inside. He could see them. They were at the very back and in a small basket, but they were there. He reached forward, fingertips only slightly brushing the basket.

His patient mindset crumbled.

Italy's hand retracted from the cabinet and, using both hands, he swiped most of the plate shards to the side, hitting the wooden ground slightly as he did so.

"I'M SICK OF THIS! JUST LEAVE ME ALONE! LEAVE ME ALONE! LEAVE-"

Italy's mindless yelling was interrupted abruptly as he his lungs seized up in a sudden sob. He slammed his hands on the ground, ignoring the pain that flared in his hands at the violent action.

"...alone" he concluded pitifully before he lost himself in his emotions.

And yet, through all of this, the tears refused to come.

Life had always been a simple thing for Italy. He ate. He laughed. He talked. He played. He did all of these things and more.

_Just because we sorta live forever doesn't mean we can't seize every day and treat it like it was our last!_ He remembered telling Romano in a random burst of wisdom.

But now...

Italy couldn't help himself. He wanted to be alone now. Not going out in the world doing things. He didn't have any energy left. It was like the harsh words he heard had forced their way into his entire being and sucked away at his energy until he was bone-dry. At times, he felt somewhat happy. Watching some of his favorite TV shows would allow an actual, sincere smile to pass his lips and even let a small chuckle escape. He also had a chance to see the sunset, which he always tried to do when life would allow it. The last of the days warming rays seemed to become a part of him and give him total peace: something that seemed like an impossible luxury since he got here. He watched it from his place on the couch last night, head resting lightly on the pillow, arms wrapped leisurely around him, and eyes transfixed on the simple beauty of its heavenly glow. However, the peace eventually dissolved, seeming to disappear along with the Sun in a final wink of light. The lethargy returned and the next thing he knew, he was just blankly staring at the dark horizon, eyes barley blinking and not making a single sound. He would do this for hours on end and, if he had been in a clearer state of mind, he would have been concerned.

He couldn't even find the energy for that anymore.

He felt almost sick. The sadness seemed to have settled inside him ever since he shed the first tear. He would be scared that it was now a part of him.

He didn't have the energy for that either, though.

He was just...so _tired. _It wasn't the satisfying sort of tired after a proud day of fun or work. It wasn't the kind where you wake up in the middle of the night somehow and you just lay there, relishing in the peace of the dark night. It was a different type. A sickly, twisted parasite that embeds itself deep into your soul. It doesn't worsen nor does it get better. It's just _there. _And no matter what, you can't shake it. You don't even care in the first place, but at the same time, you just want it to _leave. _It was a stable state of mind, yet it was pure, apathetic torture. Poor Italy didn't know what he was feeling anymore. Countless times that day, he would randomly find himself crying. Whether it be eating cereal or watching one of his TV shows, it didn't matter. The tears would just come involuntarily. And he would let them. It's not like he could stop them.

His mind was such a blank right now all because of his stubborn lethargy. Sometimes, he feels like he doesn't even remember why he was so sad in the first place.

_A sad existence. _Italy's cloudy mind thought sadly as he mechanically got up and walked back to the couch.

At times, he felt...disconnected. It was like he was reading a story sometimes. All of this sadness was just another part of tragedy in a novel. He found himself actually able to assess his situation at times and even feel sympathy. He could think back on his friends' hurtful words thoughtfully, picking apart each little word to find out why they would say such things. These were the times that his mind was the clearest. Then, reality would come back down on his shoulders like the sky was falling on him and he would go from smiling sadly at the ceiling to clasping into a sobbing heap on the floor. He would realize that this was _him._

He felt himself enter one of those moments right now...Ah yes. A world of indifference was a better than a world of pain. That much was obvious.

Dazed, he went back to lay on his couch and stare up at the ceiling, brown eyes clouded and mouth opened slightly in what one person would think as thoughtful wonder.

He hoped to stay like this for a while, or at least the rest of the day. Oh well. He didn't have the energy to think such selfish thoughts anyway.

He was so far gone that he didn't hear the doorbell ring.

* * *

Ohhhh. Cliffies~~~~

Not to brag...but I think I captured the emotion of the moment perfectly in words!

Does anyone know what the dream is? I left a few clues...

Bye everyone! See you soon!

-Me Neo of Libra

P.S-Btw, I'm watching the Fairy Tail anime now! It's cute so far! Anyone have opinions on it? No spoliers though!


End file.
